Closure
by PFT
Summary: Something was wrong, there was no way that they could replicate everything. Codsworth was shiny again, and no amount of polishing was likely to return him to 2077 glory. The coffee didn't taste like whatever passed for coffee in the 23rd century.


Thomas burrowed deeper into his pillow. It was too early to be getting up. Too early for the sun's rays to be playing with the bushes outside. Too early for the scent of coffee to be wafting through the house.

It took a minute for his early morning-addled brain to process what he had thought. When he did, he turned onto his back to take in the scene. The ceiling was a symphony of color and shadow, between the bushes outside and the bright early morning sun. The bushes seemed to be too perfectly trimmed, however. The house across the way wasn't patched. He felt fine, and not like he'd been fighting some giant abomination or raider gang the evening before.

He tossed off the blanket and set his feet on the floor. Carpet greeted him, much like what had been on the floors of his house the morning the bombs fell. What surprised him even more was that the bandages he had to apply to a couple nasty looking wounds weren't there- nor were the wounds themselves.

He stumbled down the hall towards the bathroom. There should have been a bucket of water there from the night before, left so that he wouldn't have to struggle with the pump in the morning. When he got in, a light flickered on, and was astonishingly bright. After a couple of blinks to adjust to the too-bright room, he turned to look around, and was greeted with a highly polished, clean looking bathroom. No bucket; someone had probably used it, he grumbled. Someone also seemed to have fixed up his house overnight. Impressive, as the house across the street never seemed to get much better, despite Sturges' best efforts. Though that also seemed to have changed, he noted.

Noting that he could still brush, he reached into the cabinet where he stored his toothbrush. At least that was there, he noted with a sigh of relief. Eyeing the faucet, he decided to turn it. Much to his surprise, water came out. Turning off the tap and setting down the toothbrush, he decided to explore the main living area.

He was greeted by a cheery, shiny Codsworth. "Good morning, Master Thomas! Your coffee, brewed to perfection at 173-point-5 degrees Fahrenheit!"

Sitting down, Thomas looked around the room. Something was wrong, there was no way that they could replicate everything. Codsworth was _shiny_ again, and no amount of polishing was likely to return him to 2077 glory. The coffee didn't taste like whatever passed for coffee in the 23rd century. "Codsworth, what is today's date?"

"Why, sir," replied the usually-chipper butler, "It is Saturday, October 16, 2077. It is just a hair before seven in the morning. Might I say, I'm surprised to see you up so early."

Thomas looked at the Mr. Handy unit in disbelief. There was no way Codsworth was correct here, his chronometer must have taken a ding too many. Or been reprogrammed as part of the joke. "Why are you so surprised?"

"Well, you and the missus got home from Fenway so late last night, I had expected you both to sleep in this morning. Terrible shame about the loss and elimination, but I'm sure we'll get another chance next year. At least it's not the damned Yankees in the World Series again."

Thomas had to chuckle at Codsworth's proclamation. "Who would have thought a Mr. Handy would develop a fondness for Baseball?" he muttered to himself as he sipped the coffee. Prank or not, this was good stuff. The mystery could wait for him to finish the coffee. Unfurling the _Bugle_ that someone (probably Piper) had taken great pains to reprint- he re-acquainted himself with the headlines of October 2077.

Big story was the Red Sox loss to the Orioles- hurt a lot less than losing to New York, he had to admit. They'd be meeting the Braves in the Series- one of the writers was moaning their success, but Thomas had to shrug. Hard to feel angry at a team that left town more than a century ago.

The other headline was of Eddie Winter, the mob boss who had been the target of a major investigation. He'd been the other major headline-grabber, as "Operation Winter's End" had all but convicted the man of just about every crime imaginable. He was still on trial, with most expecting the book to hit hard.

Sadly, playing Pre-War Paper was less fun when you knew the next outcomes of the stories. The Orioles stunned the Braves by sweeping the Braves, ending in a thrilling Game 4 where the game finished at 1am, mere hours before the bombs hit the Columbia Commonwealth. Eddie Winter was pardoned or some legalistic crap (always Megan's specialty being the one with the law degrees) on Wednesday October 20. Travesty of Justice, especially for poor Jenny Lane and her fiancee, Nick Valentine.

Valentine.

Nick Valentine.

Thomas was brought out of his musings. The most likely companion to a Piper prank would have been Valentine. And he _hated_ his pre-war life being brought up if it wasn't necessary.

"What the hell?" Shouted Thomas, startling Codsworth.

"Sir?"

"What's real and what isn't? I know how both of the headline stories end! October 20th, Winter walks off scot-free-"

"There's absolutely no way that happens. That man will be lucky if he spends the rest of his life confined in a cell."

"-And the Orioles sweep the Braves with a thrilling finish on Friday, hours before bombs start flying on Saturday morning."

"Sir? You seem to believe this all true. Are you feeling alright?" Codsworth's voice carried a note of concern. "Did you get hit in the head last night?"

"I-" Thomas couldn't find what he wanted, for a moment. "Where's Shaun? And Megan? Tell me she's alive! Please!" Thomas' voice seemed to get more frantic and pleading as he went on.

"I assure you, she is quite fine, just stepped out to get a bottle of milk. Shaun is fine too, sir, in his crib. Are you sure you don't need to see a therapist?"

"I need a moment." Thomas started towards Shaun's room. This was merely a week before they went into the Vault. Before someone kidnapped Shaun and killed Megan. The beginning of their last week as a family. His last week in 2077.

Reaching Shaun's room, he quickly walked to the crib. In there was Shaun, looking like he was just waking up. Shaun looked up at Thomas and let out a small, happy, slightly sleepy gurgle.

From the other room, he heard the door open. "Ma'am," began Codsworth, sounding slightly nervous, "Mister Thomas does not seem to be himself today. He seems slightly dazed and confused. I trust there were no issues at the game last night?"

"None that I know of. Where is he?" Megan's voice was like music to Thomas' ears.

"He said he needed a moment, and headed to Shaun's room. I don't believe Shaun is in danger, he seemed to be convinced that Shaun was missing and you were dead…" Codsworth trailed off for a moment, as if he wasn't sure how to proceed. "Where he would have picked up a ludicrous idea like that, I have no idea."

"I'll go talk to him." Megan's footsteps came closer and closer to the door. Thomas wanted nothing more than to hold her one more time, but his feet wouldn't move. Hell, he seemed rooted to the spot he had been in, as if he was pretending to be a tree for Shaun's enjoyment.

The color faded from the world, then the world faded to black. "There seems to be an issue linking in with Valentine and Kellogg. I may need to add more power." Amari. The memory den. It all rushed back to Thomas in an instant. In the other chair was Nick. He'd gotten his revenge. It didn't help. Megan was still gone, Shaun missing.

"Are you sure it's safe, doc?" Asked Piper, some worry evident in her voice. "We don't want to cook Nick and Blue's brains if we can avoid it.

"I would have thought the resistance would come from Kellogg's interface with Nick, but they linked up mostly fine. I haven't been able to link up because the resistance on the other end, which almost never happens."

"Blue, can you hear me?"

Thomas struggled to find his voice. "Y-Yeah. I can hear you."

"Are you alright?" Interjected Amari. "There seems to be some interference on your end."

"Doc- I- I have no idea why there's interference. At least I didn't, at first. You can't see what I do, can you?"

"Usually, I can. This time I couldn't. Did something happen?"

"Can you put me back to where I was?"

"Blue?" It was Piper's turn to interject, and she was confused. "We almost got Nick hooked in. We might not get another shot at this."

"Your friend is right. If I can't get the connection established shortly, we may have bigger issues than a lack of connection."

Thomas sighed, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Do whatever it takes."

"For Shaun." He added under his breath.

* * *

Every muscle in his body hurt. It was a painful reminder of where he was again. There was an extra hurt in his mind, like someone had taken it out, scrambled it like eggs, and then put it back in.

As his eyes opened, he was greeted by the familiar visage of Piper, lines of worry evident, despite the weak smile on her face. "Welcome back Blue."

Thomas blinked. "How long was I out?" Not only did everything hurt, but he felt as if he could drink a bathtub of water and still not satisfy his thirst.

"About 2 days. Nick said to send word when you got back up on your feet, he's got a lead we can follow. Had to rent a room at the Rexford. You seemed to disconnect alright, but collapsed unconscious as soon as we got you out."

"Out like a bag of bricks, huh."

"Yep. Was going offer you to Abbot as building material if you didn't wake up soon." Piper said, poking him in the side. Thomas rolled his eyes and gave a weak smile. "But I guess he'll have to wait."

Thomas shook his head. "Would have had to compete with Preston. He might have tried to make me a statue first."

"Diamond City is closer than Sanctuary." Thomas' weak smile faded, and this was noticed by Piper, whose face returned to a mess of worried lines. "Are you feeling alright?" Piper's concern was also evident in her voice.

"I'll be fine." He may have said it, but his heart wasn't in it. Even he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

"You sure?" Piper's voice easily betrayed that she was not buying it for a mere second. Thomas nodded in response, but looked straight ahead. "If you need to talk, you know where to find me."

* * *

Thomas made the executive decision to stay the extra night at the Rexford. He tried not to travel at night, especially in what used to be Downtown Boston. Plus, with all the aches, he would prefer to stay put for just a bit longer.

Despite being exhausted, he found himself wide awake, and alone with his thoughts. Piper's light snores from the mattress next to his were the only distraction, and they were not much of one, at that. Resolving to sleep by brute force if needed, he shut his eyes and focused on the rhythmic breathing of the reporter in the room.

He had just about fallen asleep when a blinding flash caused him to bolt upright- luckily it hadn't seemed to affect Piper, as the uninterrupted snoring continued. The door to the hallway seemed to glow with an unusual white light, that seemed to draw Thomas towards it. Absentmindedly, he opened the door, finding Shaun's room. Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself standing back over a happily cooing Shaun in his crib.

This time, however, he found he could turn to face the doorway, where a softly smiling Megan stood. "Hey you."

He found himself smiling back. "Hey yourself." Confusion set in shortly after. "Wait… how did I get here… without running into you? The only door is where you are at."

Megan quietly walked over to where he was standing, and draped her arms over his shoulders, crossing her arms over his chest. "How real does this all feel?"

Thomas looked over his shoulder towards his supposed to be dead wife with a questioning look. "It feels all too real." Slowly, he turned to face her. He was greeted by a soft, slightly bittersweet smile. Pulling her into him, he hugged her firmly. "None of this is real, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Shaun isn't in the crib behind me. The world isn't bright and cheery. There won't be another ball game for us. You- you-" Thomas stumbled over the sentence, as tears began to well up in his eyes. "You're dead. Killed by Kellogg."

She sighed softly and hugged him back firmly. "I suppose that is all true."

"What I wouldn't give for 5 more minutes with you."

"Loyal even after the end. You fantastic man, you." Megan pulled away to look Thomas in the eyes. A few tears threatened to fall from her eyes. "I suppose the term 'after the end' is not the right one in this circumstance. I'll always be with you. Maybe not physically, but I'll be here," she said, patting him on the chest over his heart.

Thomas smiled weakly. "Why do these feel so real?"

"Dreams and visions always do, dear." Megan sighed. "There's so much I wish I could tell you. The hardest part isn't over yet."

"You've got to be kidding me. How does it get harder than this?"

"If I could tell you, I would." _Like that your son is the Institute and has been all but ordering genocide on your newfound friends._ "All I can tell you is that when the time comes, you'll know. You deserve- and might even need- every bit of friendship you can get."

"Now," she said, moving her hands to cup either side of her face. "I don't have much time left with you, and I intend to make it count." With that, she pulled him in for a toe-curling kiss that seemed to last forever.

After breaking away, both were breathless, but felt as giddy as when they had their first kiss. A comfortable quiet settled in the room, punctuated only by a now snoozing baby Shaun.

Thomas was the one to break the quiet. "That's quite a parting gift."

Megan smiled. "Something to remember me by. Oh, and Thomas?"

"Hmmm?"

"You, dear husband, have always been great at taking care of others, but not as much yourself. It might be in your best interests to find someone who cares and can make sure you don't run yourself into the ground." She smiled

"And is a physical presence, as opposed to a spiritual." She added after a moment. _Besides, I can think of a suitable companion already._

Thomas felt the world around him slowly start to fade, and the aches and pains of the real world start to come back.

As he opened his eyes, he was greeted by a wooden ceiling that wouldn't have been out of place in a shed. The walls had enough holes to compete with Swiss cheese. He was lying on a thin, threadbare mattress that didn't belong to him, and would have been several years overdue for a replacement. His entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck, and his legs were bandaged, covering several deep scratches from an unfortunate encounter with an abomination of nature. He had lost a wife, lost a decade with a son who was still missing and in the hands of the boogeyman. Watched his entire world fall to ruins.

And yet, he felt like he could take on the world. And he would, until he had his son back.


End file.
